Friday, December 30, 2011

Ever since I developed a personality and stopped living for approval, I manage to piss a lot of people off. I also have made some of the most loyal friends I've ever had.

In a way, that's a bad thing. Every time I get an angry message from someone, my heart sinks into my stomach and I feel a little sick. My life used to literally revolve around what people thought of me. Now that's not the case at all.

And mostly that's a really good thing. I haven't become a wild thing, doing whatever feels good or rebelling against the world. But if I would like to do something, like stand up for myself and my choices, I'm able to do so with relative ease.

This year has been extraordinary. For growth, discovery, and strength. A nonstop adventure. I've seriously not taken time to breathe until this week. From a new marriage, to boot camp and relocation to Florida. A realization of mistakes, a surge of confidence, a summer of too much love and a lot of pain. Graduation left me broken, missing some of the best people I'd ever known. A girl who challenged everything I believed and rekindled my love for music. A horrible illness ending In chemo treatments that left me drained. That's been my year.

Blogging is a funny thing. In order to think, I need to unload my brain completely. This is my place of relief. Perhaps to you readers, it sounds like I'm a bit more than totally obsessed with myself. But actually, this is my only venting ground. When I've logged out of here, I become the chill voice of reason that Holmes would admire. I guess everyone needs an out, and this is mine.

Next year shows a whole world of promise right now. Travel, family time, a place of my own, the best job in the nation, and a hundred new genres of music to listen to, a million new books to read and an a-list of movies to see. A new friendship that gives me hope, and of course my good old trustworthy trio of friends.

This year is almost ready to blink out. I don't regret a thing. I'm comfortable with the skin I'm in. I've learned to respect myself and my opinion. Next time I have reservations, I won't just jump into anything. Life is too good to spend missing the past.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Guess what? The Navy is a terrific place to meet new people. Every kind of person. I've shared dinner with sailors from every state and several countries. I've encountered every religion I've ever heard of. There are many motives for joining the service, and I've heard a lot of them. I've made friends I never expected to make, and gained a wealth of wisdom and lessons.

I've realized I don't know anything about personalities. I thought I knew what kind of people I could tolerate and who I should steer clear of. It's strange, some of the most nosy girls have some of the best advice. The most arrogant man could have the fiercest loyalty and protective nature. Some people seem to care about no one, but when you get to know them, they have deeply sensitive souls that need loved.

I've found that I am happiest when surrounded by friends. One on one is the best way to get to know me. But I very much love to be part of a crowd, to fit in with a group. Whether I'm bullshitting around with my work party, or singing with the PAC, or taking a trip to Disney world with my closest friends, or even just chilling at books a million with one or two kindred souls, I'm happiest when with company.

This is the time of my life. To socialize, learn from others about myself and how I interact. To savor the feeling of being wanted and enjoy the presence of others. I'm not the introvert I always thought I was. I have the feeling that 2012 will be my best year to date.

Friday, December 9, 2011

I'm sitting in my barracks, working in some photo projects that I've been wanting to finish, and listening to Glee. This is the perfect beginning to a wonderful weekend.

For the past month, I've been fighting some personal demons. They inspired some dark writing, but also I'm proud of how well I coped. To me, it's a sign of the progress I've made on myself since last year. I'm now entering a season of good things, and it's very welcome!

So, lately I've been wearing hoods all the time. If I'm in uniform, my cover is always pulled low over my eyes. I'm not sure why. But I feel naked without a cover on my head. It started as a fashion thing, and then I just switched to doing it all the time.

About love... I've dished a lot of crap on it. I'm not exactly sure where I'm at yet, but I don't hate it anymore. After all, I have an idea of what love is. It was that choked up feeling I got when I saw the Christmas tree my sister Drew for me and the contents of the care package my mommy packed. And it's the sensation I savored when I heard my friend today, being real, asking if I was doing okay. It's what inspired me to plan a trip to Texas to see the sailor who can't go home for Christmas. It's the excitement I get when I see a text from Tokyo.

My latest endeavor is to really focus on myself and rejuvenate. I an learning about my personality, thanks to my pal Bannon, and I'm bringing out talents I've wanted to master, but never had time. Piano is coming back into focus, along with vocals :D I've also been building my relationships with the six most important people in my life.

I'm not saying last year didn't happen, out that the situation didn't suck. But after a year of not speaking to my siblings, I find I'm absolutely content with the fact that I can see Lydia on Facebook, or that I'm saving up for a ticket to bring Hazelle to Florida. Mom is my best friend again, and I'm finding that beneath the new perspectives and beliefs, she is the same mom. And I love her.

So, yeah. That's all going great. And the Navy? Please. I was made for this life. It's got the stage, the value, the pride, and benefits on the side! I'm learning that my rate happens to be amazing. Every morning I walk to muster and think about how cool it is that I'm in the service. I get to honor the ensign every day. I get to wear a uniform worth being proud of. I'm really glad I chose this career. It's brought me nothing but joy.

Funny side note... I saw a senior chief the other night when I was jogging to the chapel. He looked unsteady, and I ran over to see if he needed anything. He walked up to the empty flag pole, saluted smartly, and turned to me. "Shipmate!!! Did you salute the ensign?" he boomed. I came to attention and saluted, confused. He then went to the door of the Quarterdeck. "do you know why this door is locked?" I explained that it was after hours... He was very pleased about this fact. He re-saluted, turned and stumbled away. I laughed for about ten minutes. It was glorious.

I'm about to go on a pizza date. Every weekend, a small group of us go smoke hooka and eat out, go to a movie, or find a fun event. Tomorrow we are going to the zoo. I believe this is my time to take advantage of the freedom I have, and use it for good. I don't have anything holding me down. I have the structure of the Navy that I need to keep me grounded. I'm going to Tokyo and Europe next year. Life is, indeed, wonderful.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Me?
I don't have that.
No, that's crazy, like Fo real
I'm not like that.
It doesn't hurt when I think of you
(which by the way, I don't do often)
My heart is steady and content
Not falling into pieces as I speak.

Broken heart?
What is that, anyway?
Strongest muscle in my body!
Don't expect it to give out over you.
Its busy pumping blood
Not bleeding tears
I don't miss you.
Get real.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

So, no offense, but I can't fucking stand love. It's a false hope. It's the idea that people could do more than use you.

Watched a movie last night. Everybody had an angle, a reason to become acquainted with the other. It's the truth that everyone has an angle. And in the end, it's never about anyone else. It's about what you get out of it.

If love were real, God would strike dead all those child molesters, wife beaters, those pathological homophobes who do nothing but harm to this world and the innocents in it. If love were an actual thing, then someone would stay alive for the sake of their best friends and family. If love existed, then this thing called relationship would end in something other than total despair and brokeness.

Love is a myth for people who aren't strong enough to find peace in themselves. There is no such thing. I've seen people who are happy, always smiling and encouraging, become broken shells in their private moments. Reality is that we are all alone, and that's how it's going to end.

God could be a really good copout, if you have the imagination to create faith in something you don't know anything about. God can be some eternal loving creature, who fills the gaping spaces that your friends eventually leave you on the side of the road with. He can be your father, your groom, your best friend...sick. What a pathetic life, finding joy in your imaginary friend.

I feel like a traitor saying this. This whole thing would exclude family, except family stabs you quicker than friends do. And deeper. Because they know you can't just walk away, they are family and in the end, you still share their blood. So I can't hate uncle Jim, or any other person who killed me inside, if they are related.

There are those relationship people... God, I fucking despise relationships. They bring me nothing but wrenching pain in my gut. So far I've been in four. Miles, who belittled every thing that I ever said, and put me down. And I stayed with him why? My latest relationship can tell you. It's cause I'm fucking stupid. That's all he thinks of me now. I see why. I cared about someone who was supposed to be just a friend, and I believed all the sweetness. He was a million times better than my husband, who ended up...I can't even go there yet. And James, my one relationship where I think we had a real love, but he dated me during the days when my step dad molested me, and I was scared...fuck that.

But friends... They are worse. I have my Colton, Emily and Robert, and Lisa and my brother Dean. Those guys are the closest bond in humanity that I have. And in a way, I hate it. You hear me, Colton? If you hasn't been around this summer, I might be numb now, comfortably hating everyone. But you kept me real, and you made me fall in friend love so hard that I honestly would give my life for the kid. And Robert and Emily, who have seen me be a total melting mess, and been there. Dean. You once stayed with me, as I screamed at you to leave me, to give me one more reason not to survive, and I told you how much I hated you. But you stayed, you brushed aside my anger and you style my heart and kept me alive. And Lisa, my unlikely friend who pulls out a spiritual side in me that I'd like to see dead sometimes.

Why? I had a friend like you once. My Caleb, my brother. Been there for me, told me everything. When I curled up on the floor and cried, you curled around me and cried with me. You stood up for me, at risk of losing your job, and didn't think twice. We were side by side for years, you were my twin and the one person I trusted never to leave.

So what happened to that promise? Did you even think about calling me? The phone was inches away from your hand when they found you. Did you think lying would protect me? You told me everything was fine. Fuck it, you told me you loved me, that was the last fucking thing you said to me. How could you? You destroyed my faith. I love my friends now, but I can't fucking trust them, because of you.

My heart went numb the day he died. I absolutely cared not at all. I wish I had stayed that way. I wish I'd never met Aaron, or Colton, or Brian, or anyone else who woke me up. I'm trying to go back to that peaceful place, where nothing mattered and I was always cold. Because this pain thing is not me. Other people embrace life with vigor. I don't want to. I think the only meaning for my life is to serve as a warning for all the rest of you.

This isn't home.
I knew before I even left my mother's arms. I saw the power lust in a man I was told to respect. When wrong was right, I knew. As I saw the pain in my family. Watched my sister's bright eyes turn dull and listless and watched my brother's little body crushed by a bully of a father. That place wasn't home, and I begged for a way out.

The moment I stepped outside to supposed freedom, it became clear that I didn't belong. Kids are still abused. Women sell themselves. Tears flood the streets and mingle with the blood of tired sojourners. The young blood flows too; a child who doesn't belong knows no release other than a blade. A quick motion and their bitter life is over before it really started. Pain is palpable here. Behind the plastic smiles are aged, sorrowful souls, wishing for respite. Maybe the youngsters have it right. Get out while you can. Dying is freedom. This isn't home.

I've traveled these roads. I've tasted many sensations and sought the treasures of earth. I've even gone so far as to attempt the wonders of God. Not one of these has brought me nearer to something to call my own. Nations don't have it; my native land isn't anywhere. I don't know how to make myself fit in when I'm a foreigner everywhere I've ever been.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

All those that live are precious, amazing miracles. They each have been given a set of circumstances that they react to in their own way. And it makes all of them-all of you-worthy of nothing short of fascination.

Take random members of my family. There's my uncle, who I have always viewed as very calm and soothing. He's a free spirit, doesn't care about anything too much... And I haven't seen him since I was thirteen, I think. I'm filed with wistful affection when I think of him. As much as other family members are angry, I only remember good about him. And I want an uncle Jimmy hug and kiss.

Then there's my brother. He's thirteen now, and I've become almost a little afraid of him, but not really. I just think the world of him and want him to trust me explicitly. So I try harder than I ever have to be the right amount of funny and savvy. Of course, on base I'm with boys about five years older than him, and I don't have to worry-they love me. I guess I care so much about Andrew that I try that much harder around him!

Skip to my step dad. Okay. So much to sort through. He's my nemesis, but it's true that he isn't that smart. And people who have less than me break my heart. So I can't hate him. When I see pictures of him, something in me squeezes painfully. I want to hug him and thank him for his passion, even though it hurt me so much. At least he gave a fuck. He's only human. See what I mean? When you look at humanity, there isn't room for hatred. Just a sad, ancient pain.

And my mom? Fuck, I don't know. I remember a lively little woman telling me stories as I weeded the garden. I remember her eagerly explaining new Christmas traditions. I remember her love for literature, a love she passed on to me. I can recall her making beautiful projects, a lovely flowing rose colored dress for me. Laughing as my sister
And I cut out cookies. Playing songs as I danced. She was the heart of our home.

Last summer I destroyed her. Granted, I was reeling with the shock of her spiritual demise. I didn't know why I had lived a lie my entire life, especially one I hated so thoroughly. So I viciously rejected her, because I didn't understand.

Now my heart bleeds for her. My sweet mom, always passionate, caring for others... I ruined that. I made a sad, hollow shell. I'll never forgive myself for clinging to the man I found and walking away from the one woman who never spared loving me. Her whole life was about me. Thanks to social ideas, we didn't get the dream life she strove
To attain for me.

How about my own life? I'm stuck here with a boy I had to cut ties with because he is nothing like what I married. I'm a constant study for coworkers. I'll say, "I speak my mind," and then they tell me they already know, they watch me and they list of a few more traits I didn't realize were so obvious. Mostly, I've given up caring, living to achieve personal goals. I danced with a sailor last night, and he wanted to take it further. In the past, I would be eager to please my new friend. As it was, I've not been too active lately, so I was agreeable... But I realized I just didn't feel like it, and oh by the way, I don't care... I opted for singing at the top of my voice with one of my new best friends.

I like my singing friends. They are the kind I can be myself around. Colton and I, for instance, shouted lyrics just because we could, and I trust him literally more than anyone I know. My choir friends all try to get to choir early, because if we have time, we play guitars and song lyrics that make us grin like fools. My
New roommate was shy, until I started playing some Michael Buble, and now she is another best friend.

I guess I've been a little shocked lately at the events of this year. Aaron turned out to have a side that really hurts. Then, I met a group of people, and we became each others sport through the dramatic summer. We didn't all stay friends. In the end, it was down to myself and two men, and we formed a trio. Then one left for Texas. That was horribly painful, cause this training command is a harsh enviroment and you learn to lean on each other. Finally, the other man drifted away, and somehow even though I wasn't terribly close, that ended up hurting a lot more, and that pain engulfed me.

I've never had that happen before. It's not an obsession, but it's in the back of my mind and at the base of a lot of things I do. It makes me miss the old Aaron. It inspires art and writings that display raw emotion. Maybe it's the fact that I'm finally alive and I've never felt so keenly. I've been getting counseled by a military service, and it's done wonders. But some nights I wake up wishing I could go
Back to September, and the most complete days of my life.

And in the end, all this inside me comes together so perfectly. It creates a more wholesome me than has ever been assembled. It's fairly well balanced, secure, sad, wise, young, eager, apathetic, and content.

That's your irregular update on me. Go to town. I think everyone should be able to relate to something. I'm pretty typical that way. Scorpio!

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

"Goodbye; stay golden" I breathe, as I turn away, ignoring the voice inside me begging me not to go.

It's November, a month of mystical ends and beginnings, a season if startling shifting. My heart is full, indeed I can't even begin to sift through everything that us transpiring there. A terrible beauty draws my curious soul.

You, my charming gigolo... In the spring, you came. Puling on heart strings. With a sweet song and innocent promise, you won me over unerringly. My fears melted in your arms. Your gaze steadily locked on mine, and I felt safe. You promised a season if memories.

And oh, the memories I am now the keeper of! Like a precious treasure I buried each one deep inside of me, and now and again they allure me into their wake. Your lips, soft and warm, whispering sweetness into my mouth. Your hands, by day strong against the asphalt track, lightly brush my skin. Your song, turning to a rumble within the body I embrace.

The places these moments took place. An isolated beach. A darkened room. A theater. At night, in a magical kingdom. In a sparkling sea of water, surrounded by creatures of the waves.

Emotions filled me to overflowing all summer long. The purest contentment, to be with you. An urgent desire to show you how much I cared. The comfort of your fingers interlocked with mine. The satisfaction of a reunion after a week of absence. The amusement of becoming Captain Jack and Elizabeth Swan, running drunk along the shoes of a sandy beach. The carefree pleasure of a day spent together.

These are the reasons this is not a bitter goodbye. When I am torn, throughout the long hours if the night that I cannot sleep, I bring those moments to mind. As I write away angry tears at your apathy, I smile at the gifts you left in my mind for life. When I cannot find it in myself to do anything but hate you for what you have done, I turn to the past and cannot do anything but love you.

You are my coal diamond. You are my troubling peace. You are my faithless devotion. You are me perfect contradiction. You are the safest danger. You are my broken wholeness. My screaming whisper. I will love you, never, and forever.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Puddles of charcoal in a burning room
I'm slow dancing
Coals glitter around me
I breathe in the toxic fumes
I love them.
No diamond here, just Ashes
My ember love

I can step out of this lethal fume
Into the clear night
See a midnight blue there
Touch the sparkling purity
Lose myself in the mythology
Of your vibrant soul

But I have too long embraced
This danger child
Now it's a smoking ruin
And still I lay in the debris
My bones are soft from soaking in you
Only because you saved me

From the brightest blood-red
That I wish I had never seen
I chose it out of the millions of timbres
The vividness winning over a melting caramel
Gloating over the death of my own
Luring me in with sensual dares

Now, here I am
Saturated in a life flow
There is nothing colorful about the blood that courses here
The gentle soft blue that is me
Fades into the oblivion of a whisper
I am becoming a ghost
But I've never been so alive

Vividness floods my vision
The rainbow dances about me
Warms my heart
They love me. Worship me.
Yet I have done nothing
I do not ask for their devotion
And now my job is to dance with every color.
Singing
Only a haunting echo.

-This is a writing about my colors. I don't know how to explain them, except that every person in the world has their own color, and I watch them. It's a sensory condition I live with. So each color I have written about is an individual in my life.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Eighteen thirty and we hit high gear
Dash to our barracks, change
Out of these uniforms into beach wear
Meet in the BEQ parking lot in ten.
We race each other. (I usually win).
Find that unremarkable Cobalt, and we're off.

Any working hour worries, frustrations, troubling thoughts
Are patiently discussed and resolved
You grumble. I sigh
Laughter invades the tensions
All negativity soars out the window
As we rush towards our destination

Topic turns to the people we know
You groan about Clemen's torments
Smugala's amused, "fucking Morris!!"
We eagerly plan the weekend surprise
In store for our friend Kersch
A night in a cabin and one on the beach
Ford reminds us of a tegu, running.

Then we sing. Not just any song
We sing of luck, and love
Get excited over cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
Dreams of dying are the best we've had
And Hakuna Matata is our motto.

A rabbit screams down the hole
You scream at Justin Bieber
We serenade Delilah in New York City
Our voices blend perfectly.
Nothing matters except this moment, now
So we grin at each other and keep driving
Till Perdito Key fades in the background
The sun fades from view

These are the moments that keep us
Fighting for our country
For our sanity
For freedom
Friendship
This is our song.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

I thought I had left it there
Far behind, in the recesses of my darkest heart
Deep enough that I wouldn't feel it again.

Because I am not a woman; that is, my emotions are stable and justified, and I don't gasp and whine,
And I hate those nagging complaining bitches who do.

But I've been easily trusting
This entire life. Of people
I see their colors and know their intent.
I do not, however, have an explanation
For those who defy their own identity
And become something they are not.

And so, when I trusted you
I knew I would never regret it
And I swear, I don't.
Even now, as I fight these stupid tears
And try to run from the chasm

I feel myself falling inevitably into the pit if my stomach
Giving in just a little to the pain
Wondering what I did
To give you cause to shut me out.

Making myself vulnerable, unlike myself
By expressing this pain, screaming
Out loud in my journal
Just because it is the best way I know how
Other than a razor blade
But nothing is worth that.

Ah, I'm an emotional girl
In silly lovesick pain
Over a man
With a heart of gold
This canyon in my heart is the beginning
Of a very new and acute longing
That I embrace as a learning curve.

A lover, is what I do not need
I've loved too much
Everyone but myself.
I've lived until now for another
Unaware of my own needs.
But this is my season for me
It's my day
I'm running the chasm
And seeing what's at the bottom.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

How do you think you have the 411 on me? I gave you a glimpse of a shadow, and now you think you know me. Fools. You don't know. Hypocritical, maybe because your relationship with your mother want a great one, so criticize mine like a pack of drama-hungry wildebeests. I can't even loathe you because I care that little.

And what's up with you, sailor boy? You really think I care about you? No, because to my knowledge you don't know the first thing about yourself. It sucks to be you, struggling to maintain your side of the war that you don't even know why you're fighting. So you think you can find solace and comfort in me, but you couldn't be further from the truth.

Oh, the rest if you, dancing a familiar waltz... I pity you with some minute degree of my being. How meaningful is the tune you dance to? Must be some killer of a song, but I see your sorrow and I know your restless spirit. And yet you continue to dance as the tears mingle with the blood that flows out of your soul with longing to pulse meaning.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Not because its far away, or because I don't have family here. But this is a training command, and not a good place to just hang out. My goal is to get out to the fleet and start doing the job I've been trained for.

This place has nothing for me. I have some friends, who can't wait to leave either. I spent a summer being completely content in this sunny place, and now I'm good to go. All that's left here now are sad reminders that summer is again gone, and that this year wasn't my year for love.

I get to go home for a week. While there, I intend to spend every spare minute with my little sisters and brothers. I plan to spend time with my mom, and work on our relationship. I wanna go back to my bar and see my friends. I've set my priorities. It's going to be a busy time, and a fulfilling one. When I come back, I hope that I will be rejuvenated and ready for another go. This time With the people who count behind me.

This is a part of growing up. Us Bennetts are late bloomers. But I've made much progress this summer. I made a new best friend who I value as much as family. I made choices I never thought I'd have to make. I've dealt with a past I regret. I've faced some demons and learned how to bravely laugh off the worst of times and actually mean it.

So here's to going home. In 12 hours I will be with my Robert and Lisa, and Emily shortly after. I'll post pictures, get ready to experience some Bennett Bunch crazy! We know how to do crazy. :p

Sunday, November 6, 2011

I don't know what inspires me to write to people who are dead. Maybe it's just cause you aren't dead to me. I never believed you were anything but a strong, undefeated champion of alive. That's what heroes do. They stick around forever.

If you were able to talk to me on the phone, we'd be talking about some different topics than we used to. Like boys, and jobs. Boring stuff. But somehow, I've gotten big like you, and started messing with grown up stuff. Silly me. I miss calling you to complain that my bike is broken, and dad won't fix it, or sighing about mom being pregnant AGAIN, while you had a mini fit of rage (Oh my god, again??!). You knew how to make me smile.

You would have been by my side last year, taking pictures as I swore into the Navy and my new future. And I kind of think you were anyway. I think you popped a button off your jacket when you were doing your bursting with pride thing. Ah Grandpa, I love you! You burst with pride just because I breathed. Because my eyes were blue. Because I could read One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish to you. Because I was a boss big sister.

I love knowing I was your baby girl. I snuck into your big, hardened heart (like a chief!) and melted it like no one had done, maybe ever. I saw you transform from a man of steel, from the beast that everyone respected, to the man that this little girl loved. You made me your life. I never felt threatened by the presence of little siblings, because you assured me that I was your whole heart.

I'm thinking about the times dad used to convince me that you weren't a good man, that you were someone I must avoid. He told me you were an alcoholic, a cynic, that you would only turn me off the path that was best for my life. You laughed him off, and I never once considered his words to be true. The only time I ever saw you dead serious was when you were telling me that I could be anything I wanted, and not to let anyone, even god, stand in my way. Because god wouldn't hold back what I wanted most. And it made more sense than anything I ever learned about god.

Point? You were the best man I ever knew. I've yet to find someone who will hold my heart as perfectly as you. You are in my heart, and I think of you daily. I love you, so so much, and if there is any way I can ever see you again, rest assured I will.

Music, the language when language ends,
That's what a wise man whispered into my ear,
The message that traveled to my soul.
I heard it through a mist of pain,
Tucked it away for later pondering
Wondered at the mysteries of song
Returned to my agony

One day, I emerged from that place
A trifle thinner, a great deal wiser
Saddened by histories of sorrow
I saw the world was a more beautiful place
Than I had ever imagined it to be.
Adventures beckoned eagerly
Comfort softly invited me in.
Happiness gave me a warm welcome
And a harmony drew them all to me.

Of music, I know little
I was transfixed by the notes that
So true to their own form,
Yet pulling each path into a chorus
That sings to me, speaks an anthem
Directly into my being
Until I ache with the wonder and love
That I have for this, the music of angels.
Lyrics echo long after the singer has gone
Working their magic in me.

For time, then, will I sing
Be moved to tears by the meaning
When life has no meaning,
You stir my emotions to an uprising
I reach new heights that top the mountains
Feel the fire in my blood
Rising up to sing a new song
Find within the strength to be
Something I could not have been before.

Ah, music, never leave me
Contentment rides with you
Wisdom is your friend.
Love is your unknown depth
The universe speaks your tongue
And me? I am your choir
The core of your existence
You are created in me.
A most beautiful thing
Powerful in me.
There's a song about that
You just have to find it.

Friday, November 4, 2011

It absolutely blows my mind, this off kilter being. Where balance is craved, but nearly impossible. It's an art, to sink down into the depths, and yet rise every time from it, like the phoenix. To embrace the flow and release on the ebb.

It takes someone of amazing strength to be content with the motion of our lives. To spend a period of time gazing into a set of young, brown, melting eyes and whisper, "I love you", and feel those words resonate in every fiber. More amazing, then, to feel autumn's chill and sigh into the breeze, "You are a good friend, take care of yourself" to the forlorn departing figure as they go on their merry way.

It is a mystery of life. Right up there with, why are we here? Friendships, relationships, have all the meaning and no meaning in this world. Acquaintances last for a season. Love is a faithless friend. What you saw as unbreakable? You broke single handedly. And you wonder why life is about balance.

I guess we are an unexplained race, like the deep, being, and unable to say why. We ebb and flow, come and go, come and go. And the waves that beat us so brutally become the gentle tides that rock us...

Sunday, October 23, 2011

So, I was thinking of you tonight and thought I would write. Just in hopes that, you know, God would let you read this and maybe you would love it. I guess there could be computers in Heaven, and you each get like ten minutes on it every day for...eternity. Not like you don't have enough fantastic things to do, and I know you aren't bored. But, you know. Just in case.

I think of you every day, you know. It's good for me. Cause I remember to laugh. I remember when we would run and hide from James in the mall. Practical, responsible James would sigh, 'goddammit' as we would sprint, giggling, to hide behind a Britney Spears stand up cut out, or try on bras in VS. Or the time we tried to steal his car for pizza, and you were laughing too hard to drive. Or when we were upset, we would stay up all night and listen to Allison and Bill sing, and your face would be alive with joy. God, I miss you, Mando.

You know the necklace you gave me when I was in the hospital? I thought it was cool, but not my style, and I put it in my keepsake box. It was a token of affection. But then you died, and it became a piece of you that I needed to keep you with me. I wore it through boot camp. I wore it with my dog tags. I wore it through the work day, and kept it on when I went out at night. I seriously wore it constantly.

Well, today I woke up and it was gone. I pulled my room apart looking for it, but it's nowhere. I'm still hoping I find it, but I seriously don't know where it could be. Of course I had a bit of a meltdown. I feel lost without it. I keep reaching for it and feeling a pang when it's not there.

I thought of something... Isn't today your birthday? You would be like 24? And I don't know if that's a coincidence or not. But it's been a big day of remembering. And I guess this is a plea, if you can see this, that I have that back. You know what it's like down here. You need reminders that your friends are always with you. I'm laughing to remember you. When I text in the car, I think of you texting me and it inspires me to stop.

I hope you are laughing, wherever you are. I hope they play Allison's cds there. I hope you have someone to throw in the water and watch them scream while you bust a gut. I hope there are lots of pumpkins for smashing. And I hope there are more amazing things that I couldn't even begin to grasp, that you get to experience. I love you from here, and I'm living with the hope that I'm gonna live with you again someday. I love you, Amando.

Best friends don't go away when they go away; if they are really best friends, then they survive the worst times and still remain the best. If they aren't really of the best variety, expect them to disappear when you need them most.

To have best friends, you need to be a pretty good friends. Like friends stay with like friends. Don't be a shit bag and you won't have shit bag friends.

A shit bag is a sick notion. To be compared to a shit bag is an awful insult indeed.

When someone insults you, it's fun to pour gasoline on them and blow them up. Unfortunately, it's not advised or encouraged. But thinking of how fun that would be definitely raises your spirits.

Gasoline is BAD to drink. Please don't do it. I went through the suffering on everyone else's behalf, no one should ever have to learn that lesson again.

You can learn lessons everywhere you go. All of the world is one big center for learning. Just watch what you retain and what's not important, so you don't get overwhelmed with the amount of knowledge in your brain portfolio.

Letting go is a really big part of being happy. The Buddhists, again, do a big thing on attachment. If you're clinging to a 2D world, you don't understand a 3D world, but once you've seen it, you wonder why you held on so tight to the old thing.

You SHOULD hold tight to happiness. Cause without it, you don't really have a lot to live for. Be selfish and pursue happiness.

Selflessness is doing things you don't enjoy for other's benefits. Your life should not be all about selflessness. On the contrary, when you do something you want, you create happiness for yourself and others, so... why the fuck not?

'F**k It' is a good book, taught by a good author whose ideas I agree with to an extent and like to semi-quote on here once in a while. I hope he doesn't mind.

Here are the things that I've chosen to have meaning in my life: Enjoying my job. Being involved in nature. Finding rare qualities in people and loving them for it. Loving everything about myself. And eating as much banana bread as possible.

Bananas are supposed to become extinct in about 27 years. I really hope that is a false expectation. Unless they come up with bananaless banana bread.

Bananas are healthy in a lot of ways; they are not, however, a healthy alternative for a... ahem, male extension. I watched a show once where a horny lady bought a banana and was using it to... ahem, find internal pleasure, when the end of the banana cut her uterus and an air bubble traveled up to her heart and killed her. So don't use bananas for... ahem, any of that nonsense.

I once had a sexual experience involving Hershey's chocolate syrup. Almost the entire contents of the bottle were utilized. It would have been one of the most fantastic sex inventions ever, except that after about ten minutes, it turns into a very sticky situation. Like a binding body-to-body process, and peeling apart feels like you're waxing every inch of your skin at once. So don't do it. Hear me!!!

Now I'm thinking about sex. Did you know that sex can relieve a stress headache for a female, but cause a migraine for males? Yup. It's like you transfer the headache (times SIX) into your adoring, unsuspecting partner. Talk about karma!! See if he ever causes you stress again.

Also, sex is what the word 'fuck' is all about. I learned the word 'fuck' at age 20. I was a slow learner. I thought it was ridiculous how the phrase is misused. For example, 'fuck you' means, have sex with you, which is more of an invitation than an insult. 'Fuck off' means, go have sex, which is only something you should wish on the friends you think deserve to go have a rockin' night. 'Oh, fuck!' means, oh, sex! Which in your moment of stress, isn't a bad thing to be focusing on instead.

I did NOT get that idea from the book 'F**k It'. You can ask my friends who heard me complaining about that 4 years before I even read the book. That word is stunning. It has so much power and it defines such a magnificent act.

Now this post has turned into a sex-craved rant. I guess the most important thing I've learned in life is that sex is really great? That's a message that should be passed on to everyone not under the age of, say, 16. When your life is hard, you need sex. If you had a good day, celebrate it with sex. If you're feeling deep, ask for deep sex to compliment your mindset. If you are raging angry, you probably can have one of the best orgasms of your life while bucking up and down on your partner's....

Ahem. Learned. Sex isn't always a super topic to post on, because some people don't understand the beauty of it and tend to frown on such a delicate, personal subject being aired. So sex shouldn't be the focus of this post.

Ive been pretty lost lately. Not geographically, or emotionally (well, perhaps a little bit emotionally). But it's been the kind of lost where you can't find yourself, and the harder you try to, the more you wind away from yourself until you are pretty much a modern day Hansel, or Gretel, except you don't even get the comfort of finding a candy house. Finding a candy house would be magnificent, regardless of the nasty witch that lives inside. If Hansel and Gretel had been smart, they would have simply ignored the stupid ugly wench and kept eating the gumdrops and Hershey's cookies n cream bars. It's not like she could have caught them, anyways, being blind and all. I was only six years old when I made my way from my room to the kitchen, stole about half a bag of candy that was right behind my blind stepdad, back to my room, and ate most of it; snuck BACK into the kitchen and stole my sister, took her to my room and fed her the rest of the candy. Then I went back AGAIN, returned my sister, and got back to my room before she threw up all over my dad. It's not that hard.

But there are no candy houses readily available in my lost world. Just a lot of pain. Like maybe I see what looks like a house of candy behind a wall of thorns, and I reach through the wall, lacerating my arms, but I can't reach it, and instead of walking through the gate that's TWO FEET away from me, I just keep tangling myself up in that hedge of pain, crying with frustration and screaming with rage at the impossibility of my situation. (Just so I don't sound too stupid, the gate next to me is really small. It's obvious, maybe, from the other direction, and of course I could notice it if I was in a good state of mind, but I've been starving for 6 days and all I can see is this house that could satiate my growling, snapping body. That's what the most intelligent person would do.)

The problem with that situation is that eventually, if I don't stop SCREAMING, and just shut up and think, then I'll just try harder and harder, shred myself to pieces and all the while the candy house just fades from view until all I have is a dripping pile of bloody me and a really hopeless situation. I know, because I have actually gotten to that point. And if I would just quiet down and quit trying so hard to get to what I want, I might be reminded of the ultimate time I played this game.

I had spent the summer in Nashville, having a brilliant time. Every day was sun and music. Every Sunday morning, I would stand in this huge choir of people who lost themselves in the brilliance of the lyrics, and I believed that I could actually make this my permanent life. I was convinced that the painful past I was running from had disappeared in the whirl of activity that consumed me. Then I got mono, and my mom came for a visit, and what should have been a good thing turned out to be reality rearing it's hideously ugly head.

And I remember the day when I was beginning to regain an appetite. The caretaker of the house where I was staying had brought me a slice of banana bread. My favorite food in the world. I ate it, ALL of it, and realized I was still hungry. So I went in the kitchen and cut another slice, and the housekeeper found me in there. She launched into a tirade about how I had been sneaking food from the kitchen, and had I not been sick the whole time? and was I simply taking advantage of the kindness of the family who was pouring time and resources into me? And suddenly I just had enough. I couldn't take it anymore. So I lay on the bed, curled up, with my snow cap pulled over my eyes. I froze that way so everyone thought I was sleeping, and when they dispersed to their rooms to sleep, I left the house. I sat in a ball in a pile of snow and just shivered and moaned. I was in that pile of snow for about 3 hours before I walked to a house of some friends and found a spare bed. They didn't even discover I was in the house for about three days, because I just lay there and ceased to exist. And that was the awesome start of my demise.

When I was discovered, the lady of the house stepped in to help. She was a counselor, so she had the certification to be the best support. She asked me about my family. And I just told her whatever I could to get her off my back. I had quit caring at that point. My meaningless confessions included enough truth to express a little of the pain I was feeling, and enough lies to protect me from her prying questions. And then I discovered the power of painkillers, and one night I took a fantastic dose to knock me out of my misery. That night went very slowly. I remember sitting at the computer, trying to look at the screen, but my head wouldn't stay upright no matter how hard I tried. It would roll off to the side. I propped it up on my hand, barely finished checking my mail, and got up to go to bed. Instantly my body swayed and I leaned heavily against a pillar to hold myself upright. I lowered myself to the floor, crawled into bed, and concentrated on drawing shallow breaths into my body and holding in the oxygen.

At that point, I suddenly realized that I didn't value a single thing in my life. The meaningless charades just weren't doing it for me, and I didn't even care. I thought back to everything I'd been trying to achieve my whole life. None of it made sense. Why did I have such meaningless priorities? I groaned in disbelief as I discovered how very little worth I had accomplished. I might as well not have existed at all, ever. At that lowest point in my life, I fell asleep not caring what would come of me through the night, or the next morning.

And that careless attitude stayed with me for a long time. It lasted through my trip home. I still had it when I recklessly held a weapon and threatened my sister with it. It was there when my step dad put his hands on me, and for the first time in my life, I shoved him backwards into a wall and screamed at him until my voice was hoarse. And it kept me from feeling absolute abandon when I ended up at my mom's best friend's house, because I couldn't go home. I just didn't care.

And that's the state I was in when I sat down in a park one day, and outlined a paper for my English class. Sidetracked, I began to write down all the goals, priorities, and plans I had for my life up until that moment. I noted with a little chagrin that there was very little real worth to any of it, and almost all of what I lived for was not really what I wanted. Suddenly I realized that I didn't give a fuck what people thought of me, not anymore, and that I actually couldn't really fix the pain inside, because it was the pain of being alive. I guess I could have solved that, by not being alive, but suicide never really was my thing. So this realization of not caring anymore became a fixed space inside me, and it became my freedom.

There's a book called 'F**k it: the ultimate spiritual way' that describes almost exactly how I felt at that time. The freedom of not caring opened a whole new life to me. I studied a great lot of philosophy in that year, and spent a good deal of time with my English Professor, a man who honestly had next to no attachments and seemed to be very content. From him, I learned that nature is a huge part of me, and spending time in it should be one of very few things that I attached myself to, because nature is everywhere. You can't go anywhere that doesn't have an outside. And even in the city, you can find a patch of grass to lay in and stare and the stars for hours. Nature is one of the most valuable things that humans possess, and it brings about a calming sense of being.

I also learned that all my issues were really pointless. The funny thing about life is that it happens all by itself, and very little of what we do really controls situations. I would spend endless hours worrying about my relationship with my family, and how I responded in situations, and whether I could save up more money, and how to please God. All that resulted in was an obsessive attitude that caused a great deal of stress. Mr. H urged me to take one week and just watch everything happen. Just live, and not control. I doubted him but took him up on it; a week later, I was in his office with a surprised and relaxed smile. All week, life had just happened, and I was none the worse for it. Things were just fine, I wasn't dead, and in fact I was feeling better about life than I had...ever.

The simplicity of that situation is still really hard for me. I learned a lot that year, and most of it has become second nature to me. I sailed through boot camp and all it's tortures, because I just let it happen. I was excited and impulsive through my relationship with Aaron, and I both embraced it, and released it with very little distress. People judged me when my best friend died, because I seemed to be a little callous about it. In reality, I was deeply saddened by the fact that I could no longer spend time with him, I cried about his untimely exit, and then after a short time I let it go and realized that he would have wanted me to keep being happy in life and think of him with happiness, not sadness. He always made me laugh, and so I started laughing in honor of him.

Back to the present. I'm beginning to understand that balance and acceptance and release aren't second nature to me; I still am susceptible to clinginess and overreacting and trying to control situations. But nothing good comes from it. I'm hoping that at least I can realize when I'm letting that nature control me, and that I can take the steps I know I need to let it go. Instead of looking to friends and relationships and things outside me for the answer, I know I need to look inside and let everything go. Noticing the attachments I've made and releasing them. Because the funny thing is that when I attach to something, I inevitably lose it until I release it. It sounds really weird, but by simply not caring, something allows for the flow of balance to ease into a rhythm that makes perfect sense. Not caring doesn't mean loving less; there's a difference between a clingy romanticism, and a presence of solitude that is able to co-exist beautifully with those around it.

So when I realized what was going on, I was able to follow Mr. H's advice once again. I didn't smash my phone, like he always advised, but I did take the battery and put it in my car, and put the empty phone upstairs in my barracks, where it will stay until I'm no longer feeling the urge to text people. I shut down my social networks. I threw away my medications, the ones that block my colors causing me to be unable to relate to people or know what they are really feeling. And then I went into relaxation mode. For me, relaxing is massages and singing, and writing music, and writing poems, and writing about everything, and just sitting outside and staring at my colors, and concentrating on my breathing. Breathing in life, and energy, and exhaling toxins and stress.

And that's where I'm at right now. Tomorrow I'm going to go into work. I'm going to share my value with the world, and the world will appreciate and return the favor by giving me something of value to me. I'm going to take advantage of my free, albeit somewhat sad health care, and I'm going to enjoy the weather that comes in autumn in Florida, the #1 vacation destination in the states. And have fun with the fact that I'm getting paid to sit and read a book. And I'm going to not give a fuck about anyone, or anything, that I have worried over. They will cease to matter, and then I think I'll enjoy them a lot more. If they just cease to be completely, well fuck it. They didn't need to be there anyway. And I'll enjoy the time that I have here.

Standing on the shorelineResisting the pull of the wave's gravityAs it lures us into it's own mysterious, dark deep.We are transfixed, lost in the momentOr it could have been hours.As the ocean sings to usA sparkling song of power and beautyStopping just inches from our exposed toes,This glistening, living wetnessLively and magnificent in it's dance.

And it whispers and shouts,Millions of messages to usLike the millions of thoughts that passThrough my head in a split second.It screams might, it softly beckonsSpeaks of peace and war and terrorAnd love, and danger and depth.Until I become whole with knowingUntil my heart is full.

I finally tear my gaze away from the seaBecoming aware of your presence once moreYou mirror my contented glanceLaugh at the hilarity that is lifeWe try to control the uncontrollableBut it keeps rushing at us, unconstrainedWe should just watch, and be filled with what it is.With a sigh we return to our gazingAt the being that roars at usOutstanding meaning, and we are whole.

How did you pass a psych eval to get into the navy? You are certifiable. How could you just throw your marriage away? Did you find someone else that you thought could fix you? How many people have you hurt and tossed away like trash? I am sure you will not post this because it calls you out but someone needs to make you aware of how toxic you are. You deserve to be alone in a padded room. -Anonymous.

Dear Anon,Surprise! You are now published.

I like to receive all manner of comments, whether they be favorable, critical, constructive, or judgmental. And I've never not posted a comment, except one time when a family member posted something that could have endangered them in their future career. So don't be so sure of yourself on that, my unidentified reader.

How did I pass a psych eval... hmm. I guess I'm just good enough to deceive commanders in the United States Navy. Or, maybe I'm not really in the Navy, and I'm creating a fantastic lie with my certifiable brain that convinces people that I'm a military member protecting our nation's intelligence, when in reality, I've been living in this dumpster in Detroit for the past 8 months. Here's the scenario: I've got a cart that I push around, carrying Aaron. The poor guy is just too skinny to stand on those stork legs, but he makes an excellent prop for my day job on the street corner. I stuff cheerios into his face, and he chokes out what I take as a thank you. I've been kicked out of all the rescue missions in this city. They keep finding my excellent stash of Cocaine and since I can't give it up due to my horrendous addiction, they can't let me stay (especially because it's a hobby of mine to give it to the children at the shelter and watch them trip out!).

Or... it could be because I'm mentally stable. It's actually an insult to the officers who evaluated me to say that I passed if I deserve to be in a padded room. But I won't tell them you said that. Hopefully they'll skip today's post and not ever know.

I take all my reader's comments seriously. I took yours seriously. (For about 3 minutes, which was all the time I could spend self loathing and considering before I began to giggle at the possibilities of this post I am writing currently.) I'm not keen on the idea that anyone knows enough about this situation to pass judgment. Some friends of Aaron's, and a few of mine, know a little more than everyone else, and they have almost all chosen not to judge the situation. In fact, we both remain with pretty much the same circle of friends. So, Anon, I'm not sure what about the situation you know that the others don't, but I'm going to assume it's pretty big. (were you the lesbian girl who chewed on my ear for an hour the other day while I gave a soldier a lap dance? Cause I was horny, so that was justified. People who love sex as much as I do can't abstain and therefore have an excuse to cheat on the person they are cheating on their husband with.)

On a serious note, I value Aaron's part in my life immensely. All I care to say on here are positive things about the man. After all, he has been on an incredible journey with me that couldn't have been easy for him. He was a friend when I needed one. And he continues to be there for me, as am I for him. Our differences are amazing, and we respect one another's traits even if we don't always relate to them. (End serious portion of post.)

As for throwing people away? Heck, Anon, I'm a Scorpio. Don't you know anything about astrology? We happen to be extremely intense in every area of our lives. We are efficient with what little space we allow things into. Because we are so complex, we require absolute simplicity to be happy. Therefore, if people are cluttering our space, and we no longer have any use for them, out comes Big Bertha the mighty garbage bin. Plop! goes that useless human being, and we hardly even notice the suffocating splutterings they utter as we walk away, instantly forgetting we ever knew, let alone loved that person. It's just in our nature. We go through humans like babies go through diapers. We use them, we toss them. I have discussed this with all my Scorpio friends and we agree this is the truth. For those unfortunates who have lost our interest and value, just remember you were loved by us at one point, and for that reason, you are special. Usually we are very in tune to what we want, ignoring the masses of mankind before us and zoning in instantly on the one with skills, looks, traits, etc. that we need. So you caught our eye. Be proud. And get some more skills, looks, traits, etc.

The most fascinating thing you said, though, was "did you find someone else you thought could fix you?" This interests me deeply. That would mean that I thought I needed to be fixed. Which I don't understand. I mean, you already insulted a Commander, which is practically like insulting God. But then, just to cover all your bases, you throw an insult to the Big Man too. I kind of feel like you might just be wanting to piss off authorities, which makes you sound like a teenager who wants attention, haha.... well, my favor to you is giving you a little attention.

People who think they need fixed are unaware of their worth. That's really sad and I wish I could redirect their thoughts. Buddhists have a big thing on balance. It very well may be the road itself. And the hard shoulder. And the signs on the way. And maybe even the outhouses and port-a-potties, though I may be going a bit too far there. But in order to be something complete, you need to have an equal amount of yin and yang. A lot of people do too much yinning and a lot do too much yanging. It's all very well of you to love the good in people, but unless you also accept the bad, then you aren't doing too well at actually loving that person.

This whole concept reminds me of the belief I was taught growing up. Our pastors always pressed the issue of sin. In their minds, good was holy, and bad was sin and must be denied, and this always frustrated me. Because half of myself I could express, and be praised for, but total acceptance of who I was could never be recognized. I was only good. Or rather, I was both, but I could only show the good. Without balance, we become... well, unbalanced. And that's when we start tipping the scales, until we finally fall over and are forced to aknowledge the fact that our image isn't all that we are comprised of.

I'm pretty accepting of who I am. My bad qualities balance out my good ones. I'm obviously pretty loveable, considering the fact that I can express the worst parts of myself, say to my friend Colton, and he can look at me and say, "I love you at your best and your worst, and your best is every bit as intense as your worst and it's all you." (I guess he never said exactly that, but he said something like that once, and that's why I love him too.) I know he means it, because I've seen some of his worst, and he definitely retained his worth in my eyes and I wouldn't change him for the world.

So. All that to say, I absolutely don't need or want fixed. Aaron was never a regret to me. He never fixed me, obviously, and I didn't fix him. Our relationship was a strong one, and when it became clear that it was becoming unhealthy, well, we agreed to get back to a healthy place. I support his decision to join the military and I plan on being there for him in the healthiest way I can.

Thank you, Anon, for catching my interest and appealing to me for the span of almost a week. I must say I spent a lot of time considering what I wanted to respond with, and this was really fun. However, the time has come where I no longer find you useful to me, and... where's Big Bertha? oh. There she is. Well, enjoy your life, fascinating stranger. Farewell.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

This is a painful post. Because I'm in a lot of pain, and I'm trying to write it out. Last night I wondered why I haven't slept in days, and of course it's the same as usual-my head is full of spinning thoughts, all rushing through my brain and demanding some sort of answer from someone who really has none.

What started as a simple infection in July has grown into some monster trying to take over my entire body. I've been to several doctors, endured many appointments and still see many more in the upcoming days. That's discouraging to me. In fact, it's probably causing a little depression.

What's worse is what's inside. I've adapted a longing for escape. Every day I find some way out of my life. There aren't a lot of healthy ways to do that. And there isn't a good excuse for why I need to hide from reality so badly. It could be the 9 months straight I've been mind fucked, by every single evolution that has taken place in my booming career. While everyone else joyfully takes off to see their family and loved ones, I'm still stuck here... not by any fault of my own, either.

Also once again I'm reminded of the importance of solitude. People reeeealllly don't cut it for me. I am astonished at how many times I've gotten this lesson slammed into my gut, and I'm still discovering it. Slow learner, right here. It's almost like I crave the pain of being shredded into heartbroken remnants. The intensity and horror of the experience only grows with time, so each new case drives me completely to the ground, while memories of a younger me remained standing against the attacks. I guess I'm finally wearing down, realizing the impact of the blows I've been embracing.

But solitude is such a hard lifestyle to adapt. Being completely alone, in a world where humans are everywhere, is overwhelming. I love the fact that my roommates are both late shift for school. Evenings are the only time I can unleash the raw emotions that kind of take over and would kill me if I didn't let them out. With music turned up loud enough, I can have a complete meltdown and be ready to mask my hurts again by bedtime. It's a harsh reality check, remembering that in the end, alone is the only thing I'll ever really be.

Maybe that's the reason people turn to God, and Jesus. Because we are so afraid of these solitary moments and the pain they bring, that we create something to be with us always. Even when humanity lets us down, we can turn to that bright place we've invented in our minds and convince ourselves that we aren't really alone. It almost seems like a crippling technique, to me. I guess if it really works, more power to the ones with the endless imagination. I simply see myself as what is objectively true; alone in all senses of the word, with no one but myself to turn to.

It may be a growing phase kind of thing. The moment I step out of my barracks, I interact. Every other person on this base knows me and seems to love me; they call my name, wave, and smile, and I return the motions. The front desk ladies greet me and try to shove candy down my throat, and I am happy to give them this pleasure. My choir cats all invite me to events and eagerly welcome my presence when I go. The boy-men on this base, hungry for adventure, follow me with their hidden thoughts and motives, hoping for a night with me. Perhaps they, too, are incredibly lonely. More likely though, they are just boot camp material, focused on satisfying their lust-hungry dicks, and I appeal to them. I smile politely, and usually I dance my way around them and return to my solitude.

So it's not a lack of human interaction. But the entire time I'm surrounded by people, I'm aware of the fact that I'm not really taking part in any of it. The actions are there, but in reality I'm standing back, watching everyone shower affections and personality all over each other, and I'm just a physical participant. These people who should matter, slip through my life like meaningless static on a sideband. Here one day and gone the next, with no real impact except to make my social life look pretty. And that's a very sad fact.

But it's all a lesson. Somewhere in the universe, something is controlling how the moon affects the tide, and how the hungry cougar is controlling the antelope population, and how many children need to starve in order to save the other 3 billion. And that same something is training my heart for some Spartan experience. At least that's what I'm assuming, because only extremely harsh conditions require bitterly painful training. Only the most remote of life adventures demands total isolation. Only a vigilant experience needs constant lack of sleep. And a mission of death is the only one that demands your complete sacrifice to it's lessons.

It would be nice to use the excuse that my heart is a beating thing, I have needs, I need love. But those are hopeless needs, as I've learned, against this cruel taunting life. According to the powers that be, I need only myself. If I fall, rather than someone beside me to help me up, I need the strength to pull myself to my feet. Instead of a lover to remind me of my worth, I need to find within me something worth loving and put all I have into that, so I can give myself the love I need. And why on earth would I need a compassionate listener? I have these fingers and hands and this gift of writing. I can sort out everything on my own.

When the world fails, I should be able to take it. If a human turns out to be a faithless friend, it won't affect me. Nothing can hold me back except myself. If I try to maintain faith in this reckless swarm of humanity, I'll simply continue to be beaten down. Life is about my own path and getting to the end of it, and if I'm lucky, finding some happiness along the way.

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enoughto truly consecrate the hour.I am much too small in this world, yet not small enoughto be to you just object and thing,dark and smart.I want my free will and want it accompanyingthe path which leads to action;and want during times that beg questions,where something is up,to be among those in the know,or else be alone.-RMR

Sunday, October 16, 2011

My mom reminded me today that I have a blog. Which I used to write on all the time! I did it for fun, then family things got ugly and I fed off the drama, but now it's just for fun again.

Here's a fun tidbit: in German, the phrase, "I don't give a fuck", translated into English, means, "there is trouble in the gypsy village". Isn't that astonishing? I'm starting to say that when I don't care about something.

I'm still in Pensacola. It's fun. I'm starting to run out of things to do, but my resourceful mind is already kicking in and providing much entertainment. So I'm not too bored.

I need to start writing again, because I've had a lot of inner conflict lately. People mystify me. It's a joke how absolutly close two people can get, and in a moment become the negative sides of a magnet. It troubles me. Also troubling is the fact that you can't marry your best friend. I tried that, and it didn't turn out. So I have another best friend, Colton, and he just abandoned me for Texas (I don't know why. Texas is bigger and less attractive than I). I thought about restlessly throwing caution to the wind and screaming, "marry me, and we shall never be apart, my most compatible friend!" Except I didn't ever really think that, because I learned my lesson. I don't love Colton that way. I want to be with him, and I'm praying for orders to texas. But marriage would not work out.

Ramble I do. Hey, about 39 of my friends are new or soon expecting to be new parents. Most of the babies are girls. Of this I have two reactions. Wow, I have a lot of friends. Also, wow, what a lot of babies. I had a brush with motherhood earlier this year. It scares me. I used to know I'd be a great mom. Now I guess not. One day, perhaps? I'm pretty sure I was a good second mother. But once kids get past 4, they need more than physical care. They need spiritual and healthy behavioral care. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. My kids are going to have the best raising I can give them. They just need to hibernate a while longer. That being said, I want to hold my 39 nieces.

I wrote a lot of senseless chatter. But you know what, there is trouble in the gypsy village. My next post will be more stylish and organized and artsy. Hooah?

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Yeah, I've been writing, and taking pictures, and everything. But
I've just been too preoccupied to put them all up. So here are
some of the writings, in several posts, today, along with this random
collection of everything else I've been saving for you.

Things I Have Lately Realized:

Revenge is a dish best served cold. Revenge is sweet. Revenge is ice cream?

In 1000 years, archeologists will find tanning beds and think that
we fried people as punishment.

The Miss Universe Pageant is obviously rigged. The winner is always from Earth.

The Amish will never read this.

Mozart is de-composing. :O

Ninjas and sushi makers have the same headbands. Hmm...

If Hershey bars printed "You're pretty" on the inside of its wrappers,
they would fully replace boyfriends.

You're going for a leisurely walk in the mountains with your father. His name is Abraham.

You don't trust anyone but your friend Brutus.

You have a thing for your half-sister and your Uncle Scar just killed your dad.

You got scared half to death, twice.

Your parents give you a bath toy. It's a toaster.

You have the body of a god. It's Buddha.

You have a Korean roommate. Your cat is missing.

Two unicorns start nagging you to go to Candy Mountain.

The scar on your forehead is burning.

:)

Dear men,

If women ran the world, instead of countries at war, there would be
countries who were mad and not talking to each other.

Sincerely, doesn't that sound better?

"Stood in firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night. Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else. Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world." -Rorschach

...I call this one 'The Hangover', even
though he didn't have one.

Fact: If you give a mouse a cookie, he will want a glass of
milk. If you give a teenage boy a marker, he will draw a penis.

Fact: 69% of people can find something dirty in every sentence.

Birthdays are good for your health. Studies have shown that people
who have more birthdays live the longest.

The memorable ones, right? Those are the moments we should live for. The ones that leave you breathless. Literally.

Like the moment I held my little brother as he tried to writhe his way out of his skin. I had watched just seconds before, in slow motion, as he stood on tiny shaking legs reaching for a pot of coffee that had just been boiled. I dove for him, but it felt like my body turned to lead, and the scalding liquid seared his baby face, neck, and chest. Mom reached him first, and as she tore off the little red onsie, his skin peeled off with it. And then she handed him to me, and he clung to me as he shrieked. I held him that way, all the way to the emergency room. All the way through three morphine injections. That moment is burned into my mind for life.

The moment I heard the words that hadn't even entered my mind. I was wondering why my friend had abruptly stopped responding to my texts. I'd jokingly emailed him, 'Are you still alive? Call me!', cause he usually called every night, even if for just five minutes. When my buddy James called, I was blown over by the news he had. "Mando died, honey... Are you okay?" I was not. But the moment came a day later, when his mom called with details. "drove into a tree... burned alive... texting while driving..." all the air left my lungs. When the phone dropped to the floor and I followed it, the shock sending numbing warmth throughout my body. That moment in time is imprinted on my heart.The moment I stared at my mom in disbelief as she begged me to understand. I had just been released from two months in the hospital, and in the most fragile state of my life, I depended on my mother's support to keep me alive. And she knew that I needed her, and that my step dad had abused me, for years. But she still said it. "You have to go. I need to be there for him," I didn't hear anything else she said. Just felt like I was standing still, the world moving around me. I felt the tingling on my skin where wounds were still healing. I heard the distant beeping of the machines that had been taped to me for weeks. And the feeling of a razorblade on my heart ripped through me, leaving nothing but a complete loss of faith in mankind. That moment scarred itself all over my body, over and over again, throughout time.

The day my best friend held me as tightly as he could, pulling me back into reality as I trembled in rage and grief. Two suicides in a row, a family divorce, and now a betrayal that pulled the last inch of fight out of me. He found me, curled into a ball on the bathroom floor, unable to respond when he called my name. The feeling of a boulder on my lungs, pulling me down into a dizzy realm of darkness. A ringing in my ears reminded my body that it was deprived of oxygen. He told me that I had to keep going, that he loved me so much, and I tried to love him back but I couldn't, because there was nothing inside me but a horrible pain. That moment is graven in my soul, and I still feel it sometimes.

I mean, there are definitely happy moments that make life fun. Friendships can lull you into a false sense of security and give you a warm, happy gush of affection. Laughter spreads that warmth into a giddy mess that lets you sprint towards whatever light is. A hug is like a topical aniseptic on your skinned knee. And love, drugs and sex give you a temporary burst of blinding euphoria. But in the end, we all return to those moments we remember, the split seconds we can never forget. That's what life is about.

Someone told me last week that some people are born strong, and they are the ones who come through hardship and stay positive. My little sister was born strong.

She is my gentle loving sweetheart. I can hardly remember her crying, because she radiated happiness. At times when our dad was in a killer mood, I would escape with her to my room, turn up the music, and hold her. She loved to cuddle. She would hold my face in her tiny hands and laugh until I had to smile.

As we grew up, she adopted an unassuming personality that helped her avoid the abuse the rest of us suffered. My parents would overlook the small child curled quietly in the corner, observing everything with dark, patient eyes. Sometimes, she would sneak up to my side and hold my hand tightly, offering her childish comfort. Her quiet voice almost always softened even the worst moods my stepdad had, calming him and giving us some relief for a few minutes.

Now she's 15, and one of my mom's most brilliant children. She got the chance to go to public school, and instantly won the affections of her entire class. She has more friends than any girl needs, and I hear she's quite the hot commodity as far as the adolescent boys are concerned. And it doesn't surprise me, because she's sweet, strong, independent and a sharp observer. Those people always make the best friends.

I miss Hazelle so much. She is one of my best friends. She knows how to accept everyone and how to be the best kind of listener. I know she will turn into an amazing woman who exemplifies the courage that our generation should have.

About Me

No, you can't stopThe motion of the oceanOr the rain from aboveThey can try to stop the paradiseWe're dreaming ofBut you cannot stop the rhythmOf two hearts in love to stay'Cause you can't stop the beat!

Friends

About the Artist

I live in a world full of fantastic color. My name is baby blue and feels like cotton candy. I have synesthesia, which is a rare sensory condition. ****
I love music more than anything in the world, probably because it is the music of angels :)****
Gandhi is my hero and my role model, although I don't agree with everything he said or did.****
I never really had a childhood, but I'm happy to announce that the child in me is now alive and strong!
You can read my story at http://pastflashes.blogspot.com/